


The AJ and Lance Story

by ravensilverwing



Category: Backstreet Boys, NSYNC
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, Boyband, M/M, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:36:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravensilverwing/pseuds/ravensilverwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of how AJ and Lance got together. Lots of sex. Some angst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The AJ and Lance Story

Part One

 

Sometimes things are just too private to share. Like the first time I touched him under the table. The way he inhaled sharply but didn't look down, give the game away. Just sat and waited. Watching the other side of the room. Looking perfectly calm even though I could feel his heart race under the pulse point in his thigh. It wasn't until I reached his crotch, brushed a thumb up over the fly of his pants, maybe they were jeans but he gasped then, already hard from just my brief touch. It was then he finally looked at me. But his face was perfectly blank. A good poker face. Just looking at me. No question, no shock just looking, maybe examining a little. Checking to see what I was doing, how I looked groping him under a table.

I don't know how I looked, I was too busy staring out over the sea of people by then. Trying to act cool, calm, like it hadn't been way too long since I'd done this. Trying not to panic, trying to remember if I'd heard he was gay from someone reputable. That it wasn't just a sleazy rumor. I gave his cock a soft squeeze and watched his eyes roll a little, eye lashes, so long over vibrant green eyes, fluttering. Watched as his lips parted slightly, tongue darting out to wet them. He looked like sin, hot as sin. Or hell…either way. He looked hot and not at all disagreeable to what I was doing to his tightening pants.

I flicked, rubbed my thumb up again then down, waiting for his sharp intake of breath, watching as his eyes closed completely and he gripped his glass a little tighter. His lips moved, no sound then again and there was sound, a husky, bass whisper.   
"AJ."  
I risked a smirk. I knew I had him but let my hand fall back to his thigh.

"Would you like to take a walk?"  
His eyes were open by then, staring at me openly. It was a good thing the club was fairly dim to dark, no one else would see the slight flush I'd brought to his cheeks, the drop of sweat over his lips.

I blew him in a back room, on my knees, his panted moans music to my ears, so soft, so Bass. Yeah Bass…bass, Bass…you get the picture. He was low and gravely, getting me hot just from the taste of him, the sounds he made as he rolled his hips, fucked my mouth slowly, unhurried. Took his time but it all seemed too fast, too hurried, not enough time to explore, enjoy. But at that point, I just wanted to cum, get off. My pants were too tight and my cock was throbbing, pulsing with the need to get him off, maybe feel his hot, deep mouth on me.

When he came it was like listening to rolling thunder, groaning moans, desperate and he just slumped. Slid down the wall a little like I knew his legs had given way. He tasted hot. I'm belaboring the hot part but you can't imagine it. He was hot, like sticky candy or long summers days, a toaster in winter. He was just hot, simple, plain, earthy, hungry hot. I wanted to fuck him. Wrap his legs around my waist, maybe my shoulders, he was a fellow boy bander, they tended to be flexible, and fuck him into tomorrow.

His panting brought me out of the day dream, wet dream more like it but his fumbling hands, fighting to get inside my already tight and slightly damp pants made me wake up fast. He was tugging impatient. Breath hot in my ear.  
"Let me taste you, I wanna taste you." Slightly slurred and my hands couldn't move quick enough to catch up.

He urged me round, up against the wall he'd just been blown against, tried to push me up higher to my feet even as my legs were struggling to keep him happy and get up there so his mouth could…damn his mouth. That throat, those lips. More heat. So hot. I was melting. My cock sliding into that wet heat, tight with suction. My jaw was somewhere near the floor by his knees, pants, hot breathy moans, husky sounds of please, more and god yes falling out.

My pants were around my ankles, if we got caught we'd be in serious trouble, no way to explain those hands on my ass, squeezing, palming me, away. No logical way to say that his lips on my stomach, dick in his mouth, balls against his chin was just a simple optical mistake.

I could only groan by then, trapped by his hands, my cock in his mouth rocking, rubbing back inside his throat, my hands clutching at fistfuls of spikes. So soft. So hot. God so hard. Leaking all over his tongue but he was lapping at it, eyes closed, rumbling hum and I lost it, poured into his throat and he just swallowed it down. Swallowed me down. I was lost.

Sinking, sinking down onto the floor with him, breathless kisses of cum and he tasted so good. Sticky and sweet and hot and hands…his hands still on my ass, holding me there. At least until he pulled away and decided it was time to get up, get dressed again. Just paused once to watch me pull my zipper up and reposition myself. Already half hard again. Like I said…it'd been awhile and that mouth, those hands. I wanted more.

The wanting more threw me. For a long while things had just been simple flings, blow jobs in the back of VIP clubs, maybe a quick fuck if a blow job wasn't acceptable out back and we had to retire to a hotel. But for me to want him after one…to want to be in him, so deep inside him. And I didn't even know if he'd go for that. But I wanted it anyway. Wanted anything I could get.

There hadn't been anyone like him in a long, long time. But I said nothing. We went back into the club. He sat back at the same table whilst I wandered off to find my boys. Found Howie on the floor and danced a bit, tried not to look in his direction or look like I'd just cum like a volcano into a hot tight male mouth. Howie was instantly suspicious but didn't say a word. He knew I'd been up to something but had no idea of who.

I ended up back at his table after two of his boys had wandered over to sit and drink and talk for over an hour. It was a sure sign that they were just as tight as we were. Though being tight with Chris the maniac seemed a little on the bizarre side. Guess we've all got redeeming features…or so Howie tells me.

So I waited till they left. He stayed, didn't leave with them. But then again Joey was still around somewhere, as was JC. I glanced around trying to find him but lost sight of his curls in the crush. The club was filling up. I wanted to leave. I wanted him to come with me. For the night, maybe for a weekend. I never imagined more. Just fucking, a good lay, hot sex, mind melting, heart pounding sex. All I wanted right then, all I could think of was him.

I slid in beside him again and he just glanced my way. I offered to buy him a drink. He laughed and I stopped. Paused. Thinking maybe this was a bad idea, a wrong move. I waited for him to say something but he didn't, just looked at me. Eyes a little drowsy, the green fairly clear. Only a few short words, an eye slide pointing at the door and we were gone.

* * *

Tight, almost virginal tight, our tongues fucking, but it was the rocking of his hips, rolling, rising, grinding that convinced me. He was no virgin. Gasping obscenities, begging for more, more heat, more depth, more speed, more of me, all of me. Crying expletive thanks when I gave it to him, all of it, all of me, fucking him hard. Harder, faster, deeper, searching for, seeking for that spot that would make him... His back arced, his hands scrambling, my hips rocking steadily in and out of him at that angle, making him abuse air, soundless screams of pleasure. His whole body shaking as he simply came, no warning, just cum. Streams of it pulsing out between us, gluing us together as I lost my own battle and slammed straight into him, fucking him hard and fast and just gushing, filling him up with it.

Then falling, slumping, sliding down, over. He was hot, so hot, heat almost burning me. Lips rough and dry but softly pressing kisses to my shoulder, a slightly damp one to my neck. Arms gently rising to encompass me even as I slid out of him, felt his legs slide down my back, wrap around my waist, one around my left thigh. He panted, we panted. We slept like that. Me on top of him, pillowed by his chest, forehead plastered to his neck. At least until morning, and then he was awake again. So very, very awake.

* * *

I woke to his mouth making me moan. Lips sliding down my dick, my hips already rolling up to meet them, hands sloping over his face. He tilted his eyes in a way he hadn't done the night before. Eyes meeting mine for a short moment before they closed and he moaned around me, sucking hard and slow, pulling himself off till he could lap his tongue over the tip. I was already dripping. I wondered for a moment how long he'd been doing this, waiting for me to wake up, but he gave me two then three quick strokes of his mouth and all thoughts went from my head in a cascade of groans. He only moaned louder around me, through me. My hips couldn't buck hard enough.

But then he did something no one had ever dared do without spoken permission. His hand slid up my thigh, stroking, making me hotter, slid up and lifted my thigh over his shoulder, pressing my legs open. I was too busy moaning, rolling myself into his throat, almost gagging him on my pleasure.

His finger slipped in and past my first defense and suddenly I understood what he was doing. There wasn't any moment of pause, no sudden tightness, stiffening, he was just sliding inside. Pushing against me to open further, let him fuck me with two fingers before adding a third. I couldn't stop, I was begging, moaning, fucking crying out and god I just, I wanted it, I wanted him to do that. Wanted him to fuck me. Make me gush and cum and fuck…oh god it was so fucking hot. I was burning up with a fever again. I just didn't want him to ever stop. But he did. Pausing and sliding himself out of me, off of me and just looking up. Shocked. He was shocked. He was shocked? It took a moment to realize what I'd said to him, begged him to do.

"Are you sure?"  
I looked at him numbly.  
"AJ? I just thought you'd like it…I wasn't…" he blushed. "I didn't mean to…I mean…make you think I wanted to…"  
"Shut up and fuck me Lance."  
A growl. He fucking growled, hot and heavy and god…bass again. It made my hips buck up, bringing my cock in line with his mouth again. He ignored it.  
"I think I have some stuff in my bag. Are you sure about this?"  
"Are you kidding?"  
"No."  
"Yes. Yes Lance. Fucking yes and god…now would be good."

Hot breath over my cock again then his tongue, teasing, licking. I made a sound I don't want to remember, half way pleading, begging, I'm sure it was mostly desperate. His fingers slid in again, all three, no resistance and I wanted him to stop that. Stop that and put his cock there.

He finally let me go, slid away and rummaged in his overnight bag, coming back with condoms and lube.  
"Tell me if you change your mind."  
For once I didn't snap or growl. I just nodded. He took a deep breath.  
"Alright."

His voice was low, not just deep but low, quiet, hard to hear in the dawn light. I waved him back, taking the lube and tugging him over so I could kiss him. Suddenly remembering the kiss from the night before, the taste of cum and sweetness. My entire body rolled, rocked up into him and he just…god he was hard and huge. He was, is bigger than me…maybe bigger than Kev. Thicker definitely, maybe not as long.

I slid a thigh over his hip and rocked into him, enjoying the feel of him twitch, hips grinding down, gravely moans hot in his mouth. Then tongue, sliding over mine, teasing then withdrawing. His eyes opened, looking down, glazed but making sure. I should have realized then that this could have been more than fucking. He was hot and hard and worried that I might be making a bad decision. If that doesn't speak something more than fucking, nothing much does.

He slid in slowly, careful, obviously aware of his size, that he could hurt. His hips rocked gently, slowly in and out, inch by inch and I was going mad. Desperate mad as he stretched, touched, rubbed inside. So deep, so…my mouth was open and the sounds…I couldn't stop the sounds. Want, god hot desperate want. For him to keep going, don't stop, more, hot, god more. And he trusted me, fucking hard and pushing deeper, harder, hotter inside me till he was sheathed. All the way in and panting.

Inpatient. I was inpatient and rocked up, rolled my hips, pulling him into me, his entire body rolling inside me. Making me moan, pant, breathe harsh and loud. He was right there, all over there. No one…no one should be able to do that…be so big, stretch me so wide, so thin that it's all there. But he was, he was that big that…oh god oh god oh good he was moving.

Clutching at his back, hearing him moan, pant hot and god fuck, fucking GOD!

He was slow, not sweet slow or romantic slow just slow and hot. Touching me, kissing, panting desperate and hot. Moaning into the kisses as I slowly lost my mind. My cock rubbing between us the friction, the pleasure, his cock, his hot…I came. Gushing, fucking losing it. Hard and loud and long, clinging to his back, loving the feel of his cock exploding inside me. I was addicted.

* * *

 

The moment I saw him in the club, all I could think of was how long till I can get him alone, how long till I can get him up against a wall, how long till I can get inside him, get him inside me, get his mouth, his cock, his anything. I was predatory. I needed it. God I craved it. He'd haunted me. I'd been jerking off to memories for months. Fucking pining for the taste of those lips, that cock, those eyes, anything. Even the boys had noticed I was more sexual than normal. Only Howie knew who I'd been with, only he was utterly surprised when I confessed I couldn't stop thinking about him, it…the sex. Yeah…I was thinking about the sex.

Only Howie got to say "Lance? Lance Bass? From Nsync? You fucked Lance Bass from Nsync? That's the reason you've been exuding sex?"  
"Um…I might have also let him fuck me."  
That earned silence. Absolute and pristine.   
"Howie?"  
The phone line was still silent.  
"Howie?"  
"Sorry, just…didn't expect that."  
"You know I've…"  
"Yeah I know, it's not that…per se. More that I know you haven't done that in years. Was it good?"  
The half moan that fell from my lips was shuddery. I felt like a school kid who'd just discovered sex.  
"That good ha?"   
I could imagine his raised eyebrows.  
"Yeah Howie. And I'd like to say it was just cause it's been so long and I've forgotten how good it can be but…it's not. He was…damn Howie, just…damn."  
Low laughter, gentle chuckling.  
"It's been awhile since anyone gave you that reaction."  
"Yeah…it has."  
"You want me to tell the other guys? They are starting a pool you know. Trying to bet on who it was. Most are saying JC but we all saw him leave alone."  
"I dunno if I want to tell them yet."  
Another frown.  
"Why not?"  
"It's Lance. I don't think they'll get it."  
"What's there to get Aje?"  
"I want to do it again, and hopefully again after that."  
"You want to see him again?"  
"No…at least…I don't think so. It's more the sex."  
I just knew he was nodding.  
"I won't tell them until you're ready. But someone's going to ask. You've been 'in heat' Alex for awhile now. They're eventually going to give up on guessing."  
"I'll deal with it then."  
"Okay."

* * *

I couldn't help my hips pining his, kisses messy, hard and desperate. His little oomph as he'd hit the wall hadn't helped. My cock was so hard, already leaking, ready to get out, slide down his throat, up inside his sweet, tight ass. An ass I was gripping with nail bitten fingers. His moans were pure music and I was losing control, rocking, rubbing, grinding. The sudden slam of the wall against my back was nothing short of magical, I could barely think, barely register we were still in public, I just wanted him. Anything of him, all of him. Addiction, pure and simple. I'd felt it before.

His hips were doing no better than mine with the rolling and rocking, grinding me into the wall and gripping my hands, threading his fingers through mine and just holding me there. I guess he was trying for control. He was failing as much as I was.

At some point we sated each other enough to pull away, pant against each other's neck and marvel at the fact neither of us had cum. His teeth nipped at my neck and I almost lost it again.   
"My room…" he was panting. "It's just upstairs."  
"Good." I was nodding, still trying to figure out which way was up and which was down. Past down equals cock and up equals mouth that is.

* * *

We ended up fucking against the wall in his hotel suite. Hot and hard and desperate. My thighs wrapped around his hips, his cock just pushing up, inside of me. Rubbing, rocking, fast and hard. He ended up shifting, looking straight at me and I came, his cock, all of it sliding against exactly the right spot. His hips frantic, breath hot and moaning inside me. Then bliss…pure bliss screaming over his face as he came, legs trying to give way mere seconds later.

I was limp, unable to think, to barely breathe, just hanging in his arms as he held me like that. Close and sweaty and covered in fluid. Sticky and slick. And hot. God so hot. And he carried me, hands supporting my hips as he picked me up, away from the wall and walked towards the bed. His own legs had be weak, I'd felt him slump when he came, but he found the strength to carry me.

I felt him lower me to the bed and all I could do was lay there exhausted, eyes closed, just trying to remember who I was, and how to breathe through the breathless soft moans of pleasure still coursing through me. I was a mess, limp and congealing. He returned a moment later with a wash cloth and cleaned me up. My eyes opened a crack and he was still covered in our pleasure. I remember him covering me with hotel blankets, tucking me in safely. I must have dozed.

He came back later clean and smelling like soap. I guessed he'd had a shower but I was still…I don't know. That last minute, when he'd looked at me, his lips over mine, caressing but hard. So hot and deep inside me, the friction…moan. Something broke inside. And I think he knew.

He climbed into the bed and cradled me, just holding me against him, me still on my back, him on his side, one arm over my waist the other under my head. Cradling me there, so warm and soft and I rolled over and turned my back on him. I couldn't be that close, that intimate. This was supposed to just be fucking. It wasn't supposed to be this…close.

He didn't try to turn me back, didn't move closer, didn't say a word, just left his hand, which still rested on my hip, where it was. A single connecting thread between us. I tried to sleep but it wouldn't come.

* * *

"Lance?"  
Sleepy "hmm"  
Touch his hand on my hip and shift a little, move back. He doesn't hear any words but it's not like he needs any, just slides forward and plasters himself against my back. And like that I'm warm again, safe, feeling his lips drop to my naked shoulder.

 

Part Two

I was awake before he was the next morning. I think he stayed up, awake far longer than I was. Probably waiting for me to get up, sneak out and leave. I was tempted but, I didn't want to. So come dawn I was awake and he was still fast asleep, eyes eerily half open and snoring ever so softly. I watched him breathe for about fifteen minutes before sliding out from under his arm and looking around for my boxers. I found them hanging precariously from the door handle and last night came back in a rush.

Against the wall. We'd fucked hard and urgent and desperate…against the wall. He'd fucked me against the wall. And that final moment of release…he'd stared straight at me. Holding me close, intimately close, inside me but he got under me. Under my skin. It wasn't supposed to be like that. It was just supposed to be fucking. There wasn't supposed to be any emotional attachment. No emotions at all, just purely physical. But now it wasn't.

I sighed and headed out onto the mammoth balcony. Sliding out the double glass doors and onto expensive tiles. Grey. They matched my mood. I wasn't sure what to think. We'd known each other awhile now. On and off…kinda inevitable since we were label-mates. But we'd never really spoken. I'm still not sure what made me pick him in that club months ago. The fact he looked edible, the fact I hadn't gotten laid in about a year, the fact I knew he was gay and probably hadn't gotten safely laid in about as long as I had.

Safely has an entirely new meaning when you're a Backstreet Boy…probably the same for an N'syncer. You're famous, you're gay or at least you like to be with guys sometimes but you can't just go into a club and pick up any random guy. Not unless you want your lawyer around for the confidentially agreement signing and to check that no one else saw you leave with someone of the same sex. Gay and boy band…do not go together. And I know they hate the term boy band but really…they're boys, they're in a band. Get over it already. You're a boy band.

So yeah…I figured he probably hadn't gotten laid in about as long as I had. Figured he looked pretty easy to convince. I mean he's Lance Bass for fucks sake. How hard could it be? He's the quiet one, the shy one, the one that likes to think. You know what they say, it's always the quiet ones you gotta watch for. And ain't that the truth!

I didn't have any grand plan to start a relationship or even take him back and fuck him. Sure as hell didn't expect to get fucked as part of the deal. Didn't expect to want to see him again. Crave his body. His touch, his fingers, his cock, how he tastes just after he cums, the sounds he makes when he has my dick in his mouth…Glance back at him, still blissfully asleep, back to me rising and falling steadily.

Turn back around to lean on the railing, looking out over ocean. This isn't a relationship. Not even close. Neither of us has the time right now. We know next to nothing about each other. So why am I even thinking about this, worrying about it? Because maybe I wanna see him again. Fuck him again. Be fucked by him again. Take him out to breakfast.

Run a hand over my head and sigh heavily. Damn. Fucking damn.

"Aje?"  
Stop, stand up straight and turn around. That sounded like…  
"Aje up here!"  
Nick?  
Look up. He's leaning over his balcony to look down at me.  
"I thought it was you. What're you doing down there? I thought they put all us boys on this level, did you get pushed down there?"  
Blink owlishly in the morning light. Oh shit. He has no fucking idea.  
"Um…not …exactly."  
Lean my back over the railing to get a good look at him, only a few feet above me.

Jolt as I feel an arm slide over my waist, a warmth settle into my left side, turn my head and it's Lance, looking out over the ocean, not even looking up at Nick.  
"I'm not going to fall."  
He looks at me now.  
"I won't let you."   
So simple but yet…fuck…something else. His arm tightens when I lean back to look at Nick again. See if he knows who just walked out.

His eyebrows are raised almost to his hairline. Yeah…I'd guess he's pretty much figured it out. He blushes.  
"Sorry Aje, I didn't realize you were with someone."  
"It's alright. So how was your night? Got a pretty one up there with you?"  
He laughs, that self depreciating laugh that cuts me too deep, cuts all of us boys to hear him laugh like that.  
"Nah Aje, not this time. Taking a break you know." Smiling then suddenly distracted and I wonder if he's lying. "Yeah come in."

I turn back to Lance, he's still staring out over ocean. He doesn't turn and look at me to speak this time.  
"You alright? I didn't hurt you did I?" concern littered all over his face even in profile.  
"Lance." Keep my voice quiet in case whoever just joined Nick can hear us.  
He looks at me this time.  
"You didn't hurt me. I'm good. Just…" blush a little "freaked out a bit."  
He doesn't say sorry, doesn't say a word, just accepts it and nods. I can only blink. I didn't expect that either. The calm acceptance thing. His hand starts a slow caress of my side, his face turning back towards the ocean again.  
"Are you alright?"  
He smiles this time, soft like, glances at me over his shoulder.  
"Yeah. I'm good."   
Notice his arm tightens.

Slide a hand out from under his weight, affectively pinning me to the railing, he relaxes a little and moves back a step but doesn't let go. Still worried obviously. I can hear talking above us and lean back over the rail again, feel his arm tighten, his body lean in even as I spread my arms out to grip the railing further away from my body. It ends up with me holding onto him just as much as he's holding onto me. I look up and his hand starts stroking again. Soft and slow. Taking his time.

"Heya Howie."  
Howie just grins. Doesn't say a word for a moment, just standing there, leaning out a little to see the two of us holding onto each other. He looks content. But no one does content better than Howie D.   
"Why don't you guys have breakfast with us?" Nick jumps into the contented silence.  
At that Lance finally looks up and stares at both Nick and Howie. Howie doesn't twitch a muscle but it's obvious Nick didn't actually know who he was. Watch as Nick physically jolts and just know that Howie either kicked or pinched him.   
"I mean…if you want…if you don't have plans of your own…" he's blushing something fierce.  
Glance at Lance but he's got the poker face on again, the same one from that first night months ago.  
"We might have plans Nick, sorry bud."  
"Nah nah it's okai, I've got Howie, we're good, enjoy…" he blushes harder. "Enjoy."  
Then finally he's smirking.   
"I'll see you later Aje." Howie finally speaking.   
Then they're both gone.

Look back to Lance.  
"I wouldn't have fallen you know, it was perfectly safe."  
"I wouldn't have let you fall."  
So quiet, sure of himself. Feel something melt a little. Lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips, almost chaste. His lips are warm from the sun and he tastes like sunshine. He pulls away almost instantly.  
"We should go inside."  
"Are we having breakfast?"  
"If you want." Unsure suddenly, poker face gone.  
"I'm starving."  
"I'm hungry." He agrees but his eyes swiftly dip to my lips.  
Grin at him and he blushes. Such a pretty blush. Lick my lips. His entire body is pressing me against the railing now and I can feel just how hungry he is.  
"We really should go inside." I tell him.  
He nods but doesn't move. Eyes flitting down to my lips then up to my eyes again.

Part Three

He invited me out for the weekend. Knew I had time off cause I gave him my rough schedule before we parted ways in the foyer later in the day. After another, longer round of fucking. Him spread out under me, moaning, cock hard and weeping, slick with his own pre-cum. I don't think he was complaining somehow. Definitely wasn't if the sounds he made were anything to go by. I've never heard a man who can growl and hiss and gasp and moan and make it sound like he was born to do it. That gravely bass groan he has…it's enough to send me over the edge.

But we didn't, go over the edge. Not for hours. Two at the least. The sun was well and truly up by the time I slid inside him, feeling his hips buck up, roll and rock to meet mine. His lips parted and abusing air again, hands clutching at the sheets underneath us. My cock sliding in and out of him, taking my time, enjoying the feel of him tight and wet and slick and oh so, so incredibly hot all around me. Scalding but, moan, sex shouldn't feel that good. It just shouldn't, it's more addictive than any drug I've ever known. And I've known a few.

And his impatient growl, when I'm not going fast enough or deep enough or hard enough for him. The way that sound alone makes me shiver, slam into him hard and fast, usually giving him exactly what he's begging for. The man knows how to beg, how to plant his feet on the bed or my lower back and just arc into it, up onto me, fucking himself on my cock and giving out those heavy pants and moans. Moans so low and hot. I've been jerking off to the memory of that sound. Every sound he makes. Even the ones when he's so close he's having trouble breathing, abusing the air with his whimpers, half mewling sounds of desperation.

I can't handle those sounds, even if I'm not close, if I'm not ready, want it to last longer, those sounds set me off, make me ram harder, faster, deeper into him, make me lose all rhythm and just fuck him. Smooth rolling hips be damned, in the end he just likes to be fucked, hard and harsh and rough. Not too rough, just rough enough to get that friction going, his cock slick and trapped between us enough stimulation so he can explode. His body going suddenly tight, hard to push through the tight rings of muscle, hard to stop my own cries getting obscene and too loud. Hard not to bite into that perfect flesh of his shoulder or neck and just gush into him.

He likes the teeth. I was worried when I left imprints but he just shrugged, blushed a little like he does and said it was alright, he didn't mind. No, he certainly didn't mind. Didn't mind when I nibbled on his nipples either, or his hip bone or his inner thigh. Seems to me the man has a fetish.

* * *

So he invited me down for a weekend. To meet him at a club, an exclusive club he assures me, where we can drink whatever we want, in a small private room out the back and not be disturbed. But the only catch is we're meeting Chris and JC there. I'm starting to think this is a meet the family type deal. Not that that isn't on the cards. We have been talking on and off, pretty much on for the last three months and having incredible phone sex the entire time.

Man has a voice God designed for phone sex.

But this still isn't a relationship. We don't talk every day, sometimes not every week. We don't take each other to dinner, we don't get mushy and romantic. We just talk. Sometimes it's business, he has his hands in a few, other times it's music. What I'm writing at the time for the new album. Short conversations, no longer than half an hour, unless there's phone sex. In those cases the conversations are a lot, lot longer. The last one running nigh on four hours.

I guess that's why he invited me down. No houses. Just a hotel for the weekend. A nice room, a view, a private spa and maybe an hour or two in the pool. Oh and drinks…with Chris and JC.

But he asked me pretty much the day after that four hour marathon of not cuming till the end, just teasing, stroking, wanting, god so hot for four hours. Still not sure how he lasted that long, sure as hell don't know how I did. Being that the last time I'd cum before then was almost two weeks ago on the phone in bed.

* * *

So this weekend. My plane's running late and Lance isn't picking me up from the airport. We both agreed that there was no way in hell we'd pass that one off as a chance meeting or a quiet, friendly greeting. So…a car picked me up, drove me to the hotel and as soon as I walked through the door I was shocked. The room was pristine. Clean. Sterile even. Nothing of his was here. Logically I'd assumed that, of course he couldn't stay in the same room, have his things here without raising suspicion but I guess I'd thought that he'd leave something, do something so I knew he'd at least thought about me when he'd booked the room. But nothing. Not a single thing out of place or added.

I checked the key to make sure I had the right room. I have the right room. Still nothing. Maybe this is just a fucking weekend. Full of sex and well…more sex. Maybe I'm reading a signal into this that just isn't there. Maybe he's lonely and knows I'm a good lay. Hell I know he's a good shag. But I really did think that there'd be something…else. Frown at the bed.

No rose appeared, no letter. Nothing. I've always known I was a romantic at heart. Never denied it. But this…lack…of anything…yeah, it kinda hurt. In a weird, I knew this was just sex kinda way. I knew it was just sex, but I guess I'll have to admit I was hoping for a little something more. Not a relationship, just a small sign that he actually gave a toss about something other than the fucking.

* * *

I ended up being even later to the club. Over an hour and a half late due to traffic, the late plane and my insulted ego. But the minute I walked into the private room, with a white, cool coloured theme, low table and comfortable looking low leather couches, also done in white and saw the naked relief on his face, I realized that maybe he didn't want to make an advance before he was sure of it's welcome. I hadn't exactly given him the impression that I wanted anything more than pure fucking.

He hugged me, which I didn't expect at all. Suddenly enveloped by warmth and fresh smelling cologne. Something all American and masculine. He didn't speak, didn't try to whisper anything to me. Just held me for a moment while I held him then let go. Stepping back and smiling picture perfect. His photo smile.  
"Sorry I'm late. Plane, traffic." Shrug a little in apology, don't mention the fact it took me half an hour to get dressed and not walk straight back out and fly to LA. Ego…we've all got them.

He smiles, more real this time, less photo prefect. His eyes painted with relief.   
"Nice of you to show up."  
Allow myself a moment before looking over to Chris. He and I, never got along. No reason I can think of, we just don't. He's friends with Howie, they were in college together. Maybe I said something, did something, probably drunk, that I don't remember. Either way. He and I…aren't friends. Aren't even close.

JC just smiles and stands so we can shake hands.   
"Nice to see you again AJ."  
Sits back down as Lance slides back onto the opposite side of the low table, leaving me the section on the end.   
"Good to see you too. How's things been?"  
I slide into the seat next to Lance. Leaving me facing off against JC with an annoyed looking Chris opposite Lance.

We chat for awhile, Lance adding things in, in his low voice, sliding ever so slightly closer till I can feel his thigh pressing lightly against mine. Chris is sprawled back into the lounge, silent and watching.  
"Can we eat yet?"  
I just blink at him.  
"You guys haven't eaten?"  
Stare at Lance and watch him blush a little, looking flustered.   
"We thought we'd wait for you."  
"Well he's here, lets eat, I'm starving."  
"Like that's breaking news."  
Can't stop the sliver of shock at Lance's sarcastic tone. Almost nasty, but Chris doesn't bite back, just whines a little and it's obvious that it's just the way they are. Chris is a shithead and Lance is an asshole. Well, whatever works for them, though personally I can't imagine how else you'd deal with Chris Kirkpatrick.

* * *

In the end Lance's arm is around my waist, hidden amongst the white leather and my shirt. His hand stroking, fingers playing up and down in tiny little movements, slipping up and under my shirt, into the waist band of my pants. To begin with I'm not sure he's aware that he's doing it, his touch more like an unconscious stroking, some way for him to just touch me, not really a sexual thing. A way of him knowing that I'm really here and not forty thousand miles away on the other end of a phone. By the very end his hand sits brushing against my hip, the tips of his fingers moving ever so slightly with the rise and fall of his breath.

His hand is warm, smooth, holding me discreetly close to his side. Almost protective but I'm not sure from who. Chris and I are polite but distant. He keeps an eye on me the entire time. Even talking animated to JC whilst Lance sits back and smiles at them both. Always watching, waiting. I think perhaps he's hoping Lance will let go, get up and go to the bathroom, leave me and him alone to chat. But Lance isn't shifting an inch. Except perhaps to get closer. Run his hand briefly up my thigh, half hidden by the table. Then gone again before the waiter returns.

It surprises me that he's risking even that much. It goes back to the original issue. The one that almost sent me back to LA upon seeing the hotel room. Is this just fucking or am I reading these little gestures correctly? This dinner, his hand brushing against me, his hand on my thigh. When he looks at me it's only quiet glances, no longer looks, no heat, just calm and quiet. His voice rolling over his lips, low but biting when he's arguing with Chris. He's a contradiction and I don't know what he wants. I don't even know what I want but I don't like sitting here not knowing what the fuck is going on either.

Part Four

He's silent in the car ride back to the hotel. Not a word since he bid JC and Chris farewell. They haven't seen each other in awhile. At least not the three of them out together. I'm guessing that tiny detail didn't make Chris any happier to see me. That and Lance didn't let go for a moment, didn't give Chris the chance to talk to me in private. He was shielding me. I'm sure of it. But shielding me why? Does Chris really hate me that much? I mean really. What the fuck did I ever do to him? I think I need to talk to Howie. But not now, right now I need to talk to Lance. But despite months of conversation, years of suave practice…I'm lost.

Lance isn't exactly helping me out here though. Just staring out the window at the rain and running a finger over and over again against the side of my hand. Like he wants to…Glance up at the driver. He won't see but he's not even going to risk it, but the fact he seems to want to. I start to calm down. Fucking angst receding, leaving me with something not quite zen but not far off it.

Look up and notice he's looking over again, eyes flickering down to our hands then up to my face. Sudden flash of hope then poker face. Glance at the driver and he smiles, just soft, a little quirk at the side of his mouth. His finger's stopped stroking. Just resting, sitting there warm and still. He looks tired. Slide a finger up and under his palm, a soft little movement concealed in shadows but his eyes widen, flicker rapidly between the driver and my hand just to the side of his. Only our fingers connecting us. So close yet…not close enough.

Fear. He's scared of getting caught. Which I can't blame him. I don't want to get caught either. Not on tape, not on camera, not by anyone. It's not just me I have to think about, it's four other guys. Four brothers who do things or don't do things just so we don't destroy each other's lives. Careers. I guess he probably feels the same way. Too much at risk that we don't really have the right to risk in the first place. I pull my hand away. But he's still looking at me, that little flash of fear still there in his eyes.

He pulls his hand into his lap, the other hand covering it, rubbing against the palm with his thumb. He won't meet my eyes and the confusion runs high again. What the fuck does he want from me? Are we fucking or are we…something else? Something far more risky.

* * *

The room is cold and he doesn't ask, just pauses and when I don't kick him out follows me in. He glances round. Probably noticing the mess I left it in. Was only here a short while but I was…anxious. Is that a word I ever want to use about myself? But anxious yeah…its' a word that fits whether I want to use it or not. Glance at him and I'll admit it, I'm still anxious. Still don't know what the fuck is going on and it…pisses me off, drives me crazy and makes me insecure. I wanna know what the hell he wants. Even if it's just right now, this very moment. Something, anything has got to be better than that damn poker face and having no clue what's going on inside his head.

It was easier on the phone, silences didn't mean as much. You could just pretend you were distracted, by TV, by work, by a book. Silence right here and now….another thing entirely. Another thing not to like about this whole situation.

* * *

I'm pacing past the window a third time when his arm catches me, suddenly pressed close and lips. God I almost forgot, certainly missed…But soft. No pressure, just gentle, gliding, sweet and…hands, coming up to touch my face, pull me closer to him even as his lips part and his tongue flicks out, tempts me to open for him. I don't even bother trying to resist but it's not passion it's…slow, soft, gentle. A caress of lips and no one is ever this careful with me, of me. Or maybe it's just that I'm the one that's always in control.

His body presses closer and it's heat, moaning into his mouth as he starts to press harder, closer. Pressing me back until we hit the bed then sliding down as his body pushes into mine. His hand already sliding up under my shirt, pushing it up when he shifts a little off of me. Raises back to look down then dips low to lick at my lips.   
"Off."   
His breath hot against my lips and I don't hesitate, lift up and help him undress me from the waist up. Try to reach for him but he won't allow it, pushing me down again but his mouth slides lower. Lips on my neck, hot breath over pulse points, fingers grazing down then up in something more sexual than the way he touched me earlier.

The sound that climbs out of my chest, breathes out past my lips is something husky, between a sigh and a moan. My back arching off the mattress and trying to get him to kiss me harder. He licks instead. A quick dart of hot, wet mouth. Tongue running a smooth line up to suck on my ear. I want him to kiss me again but he doesn't. Instead sliding lower still and…thoughts rush out with the groans and gasp. Tongue, teeth, hot, oh god, hot…mouth…lips…Moaning his name, my hands trying not to grip his hair, grab his head and make him…My other nipple hard and erect under his tongue.

Then the kiss of air, his eyes rolling up to see me panting down at him. His fingers go to work on my pants with him looking at me like that. Eyes rolled up and…cry out as he slides a hand inside. Tease, terrible, wonderful…tease. My hips rolling, rocking, begging him as he glides up and down over satin, not touching skin to skin yet but so close. So god damned close. Hot breath over my navel, tongue tracing the 69 there…Control…I remember having some…one day…some day…not…hot…oh god…not today…light nip of teeth and I'm babbling a begging request.   
"Suck me…fucking tease…"  
Yeah…control…I used to have some…but that was before him. Before I went months without getting laid. Before I went months with only my hand and his voice…which is staying suspiciously quiet.

Quiet till his lips meet my stomach, my cock in his throat, his fingers…and he's the one moaning. Breathing hard and hot against my skin, rumbling thunder into….over. God…oh hot god, god, god. Clutch at the bed sheets, try not get fistfuls of his hair and just…buck hard and fast and god I can't be this close, this fucking…moan, groan, hot begging pants of air as he…moan again harder, louder let him know exactly how good he…roll my hips, arch my back feel it start, rise…Gag oh god I need a…crying out into open air, hips fucking him, his mouth, losing it, cuming into him. Into his hot, sweet, deep, soft lips…

It's hard to move, hard to remember which ways' up, how to breath. No one…no one should be able to do that. Not to me, not like that. Not so that…can barely lift my eyes…my eyelids. His lips, so soft and tastes like…moan softly, try to reach out.

* * *

"Go to sleep." Soft and it's dark.  
When did the light go? He pulls me closer against him and it's warm. He's somehow gotten us both under the blanket, my body pushed into the curve of his. My spine settled into his stomach, his chest, his…sleepy sound of protest.  
"Go to sleep AJ."  
Make my own sound of protest.  
"I'm too tired." Can almost feel the faint blush.  
Quiet down and let him rub a hand over my side softly. He has an obsession with my side tonight.


End file.
